


Yogurt and Punch

by ClaudiaWrites



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Birthday Party, F/M, Fluff, Humor, James Potter's Birthday, MWPP, Marauders, Meet-Cute, One Shot, Romance, Sexual Tension, drunk people, friendships, jily, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:33:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24055213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaudiaWrites/pseuds/ClaudiaWrites
Summary: When Lily is coerced into attending a stranger's birthday party, she is understandably cranky, tired, and not willing to deal with anyone's shit. All that changes when she accidentally spills yogurt on a disarmingly handsome man though.
Relationships: James Potter & Lily Evans Potter, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black & Mary Macdonald, Sirius Black/Mary Macdonald
Comments: 25
Kudos: 123





	Yogurt and Punch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YouBlitheringIdiot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouBlitheringIdiot/gifts).



> So I started writing this fic around a year ago for James's birthday, which, as you can see, I couldn't finish on time. However, as @blitheringmcgonagall rightly told me, there's no wrong time to post a fic with James's birthday. So here it is. A very VERY belated happy birthday, James. Thanks for stealing my heart all those years ago.
> 
> And thank you, Mia, you angel. I wouldn't have been able to publish this without you, so this story is dedicated to you.

** Yogurt & Punch **

“Alright, alright, this is the place! You can stop here.”

The cab screeches to a halt, and I jerk upright, fingers scrambling to grab my purse that was already perched precariously on my knee.

I blink, almost having forgotten that we’d had an actual destination in mind, and feel like I must’ve fallen asleep during the ride, but can’t be sure. I can still feel the heaviness in my bones from my long day at work, can feel the dryness in my mouth and the languid movement of my limbs. I drowsily shift my eyes to look outside the car window.

And they pop right out of my skull at the sight.

“Mary this is—”

“I know, I know.” Mary distractedly swats the air, as if shooing off my voice, before tapping the driver’s shoulder. “How much?”

“ _Mary,_ what the fuck—?”

“I _know_ , Lily, just get out of the car. Stretch your limbs or something; you look like you’ve been drugged.”

I do as I’m told, mainly because there’s not much I can say in my current awe-struck, sleep-deprived state. Dragging myself out of the car is a feat in itself because my ass feels like it’s been glued to the leather seat, and when I pull myself out of it, there’s an embarrassingly loud noise and the back of my thighs smart.

I stumble around and steady myself using the car as support. The blue dress that Mary has forced me into swishes in the breeze, and I wish for the hundredth time that night that I wasn’t such a bloody pushover.

A couple more steps away from the car get the blood flowing in my legs again, and I no longer feel like I’ll topple over. The feeling only lasts until I let my eyes settle on the house in front of me again, however.

A _mansion_ would be a better word for it, I suppose.

“Quite something, isn’t it?” Mary asks as she walks up next to me. I simply whistle in response. “Clearly this James bloke is quite loaded.”

“Probably knows it too, the asshole,” I grumble. I realize my frustration at the situation is entirely misdirected. But Mary seems to have become immune to my complaints for the evening, and a random stranger who decided to celebrate his birthday in the most ostentatious manner possible seems like the next best outlet.

“Oh, come on now,” Mary chuckles, swinging her arm around my shoulders as she drags my unwilling feet towards the entrance to the ‘house’. “What do you have against the guy? You’ve never even _met_ him!”

“Neither have you!”

“Pish posh,” Mary flips her hair and shoots me a blinding, heathen-like grin, “I’ve met his best mate, and those grey eyes are reason enough for me to be here.”

“But it’s _not_ his best mate's birthday, it’s _his_! Are you even _invited_?”

“Sure am!” She nods vigorously before shoving her phone screen in front of my face. A measly four worded text message from one Sirius Black reading ‘James Potter’s birthday. Come’ blinks back at me. Attached to the message are the address of the fucking castle and a cryptic dog emoji. “See? Invited.”

I pull a face at her, not bothering to point out that the invite is clearly a booty call in disguise. Instead, a heavy sigh leaves my lips.

“And what about _me_? I was clearly not invited. And nor do I know anyone here. Besides, I’m _exhausted_ , Mary.”

“Lighten up, Lil! You’ve been running yourself haggard the past couple of weeks,” She pats my cheek consolingly before ringing the doorbell. The noises emanating from inside make me want to chase down the cab driver and force him to drive me back to the apartment and to my lovely, _lovely_ bed. “Besides, you never know, you might find your own _invite_ tonight.”

I open my mouth to respond to her—and vehemently deny her insinuations—when the door is finally thrown open.

“Evening, ladies,” The shockingly attractive man inside greets us. I can only assume that he’s none other than Sirius Black on account of his conventional pretty-boy face, his stone-grey eyes, and the utterly self-confident tilt to his mouth that has Mary drooling on the carpet. “Come on in.”

“Evening, Sirius,” Mary does her cool, aloof voice thing, and I roll my eyes. We enter the foyer—there’s a bloody _foyer!_ —and Sirius takes our coats. “This is Lily; she’s here to make sure I don’t do anything stupid.”

“Sad thing is, she’s not even exaggerating. Hi,” I grin at him, holding out my hand.

“More the merrier! Hello, Lily,” Sirius shakes my hand and then proceeds to boldly scan me from head to top.

Under normal circumstances, such an act would be enough for me to gift the person a swift knee to the groin. However, there seems to be nothing on Sirius’s face that suggests ill intentions or lewd thoughts, and so I say the only thing that comes to my mind.

“Er…”

“Interesting,” he mumbles to himself before his eyes shift to mine and flash with sudden glee. It’s quite the sight because the rest of his face remains impassively stoic. I guess I can understand Mary’s attraction towards him in a way. “Why don’t you make yourselves comfortable?”

“I could do with a drink,” Mary sighs dramatically, as if _she’s_ the one who was unduly coerced into a dress and pushed into a cab as soon as she stepped into the apartment.

I follow morosely as Sirius leads us through a giant hallway, where several people in various levels of inebriation seem to be having the time of their lives. The kitchen seems to be a madhouse in itself, with people trying to grab multiple cups of spiked punch with their two incapable human hands.

“This James must be quite popular,” I scoff, unable to help myself. “I’m not sure I _know_ these many people, let alone have so many friends.”

“Oh, Prongs doesn’t know them. Most of these people are self-invited.”

“Prongs?” I ask, raising a dubious brow.

“Yeah, for antlers,” Sirius answers, having the audacity to look at me as if I’m being purposely daft.

“What—”

“I thought I was promised a drink?” Mary chirps in, cutting me off.

“No, you weren’t,” I remind her, “You simply demanded it.”

“Well, help yourselves,” Sirius shrugs, spreading his arms wide. It soon becomes clear that it’s the wrong thing to do in a crowded kitchen when he accidentally smacks a small, round-faced bloke across the cheek.

“ _Ow_! Sirius, what the hell?”

“Oh, hey, sorry, Peter, didn’t see you there,” Sirius says, his face entirely bored. “Party’s getting pretty wild, huh?”

“Never mind that,” Peter says frantically, his watery eyes momentarily shifting to me. I give him an awkward half-wave which goes ignored. Mary snorts. I pinch her. “I can’t find James.”

“You can’t—what the fuck?!” Sirius sighs in annoyance, the first proper expression I’ve seen on his face since I stepped in. “I gave you _one_ job, Peter! To keep Prongs distracted.”

“Yeah well, he was definitely distracted by the music blaring from the living room.”

“Where’s Remus?”

“He’s reading his bloody book in the library. Still refuses to support us.”

“Stubborn bastard.”

“They have a fucking _library_ ,” I whisper vehemently to Mary. This absolutely valid surprise is met with a roll of the eyes.

“Ugh, this place can’t function _two_ seconds without me,” Sirius says with unnecessary flair. “Come along, Wormtail, let’s see the damage.”

“Wormtail,” I mouth the word with disgust, and Mary consolingly pats my shoulder.

“It _is_ a bit weird,” She agrees with a whisper, fetching herself a glass of punch. She takes a sip and makes a ridiculous face.

Not going to touch the drink, then. Noted.

“See you in a bit, ladies,” Sirius suddenly bellows, tipping his imaginary hat at us, “Got something to take care of.” And with a flick of his perfect hair, he saunters out of the kitchen, Peter at his heels. I raise my brows when I notice a group of giggling girls exit the room right behind Sirius.

“How strange,” I hum, “What’s the issue with Potter? Isn’t this _his_ party? Why would he disappear?”

“Who knows?” Mary shrugs, completely unbothered. Suddenly, her eyes widen in delight. “Ooh, look! Cute guy alert!”

“What?” I frown, following her line of sight to find an entirely average-looking man dancing near the living room threshold. “He’s okay.”

“Well, yeah, if you compare him to _Sirius_ that just isn’t fair to him. Or to anyone else, really.”

“Sirius is okay, too,” I say. But when Mary whips her neck around and gapes at me as if I’ve suddenly stripped down to my underwear and proclaimed that we should do the Limbo, I hastily amend, “No, I mean, he’s really good-looking, don’t get me wrong. Could have been sculpted into perfection, for all I know. I just meant he’s not my type.”

“Oh, I know,” Mary chuckles, “That’s why I brought you along.”

“Gee, thanks,” I deadpan.

She cackles loudly, and I know that she’s already on her way to being drunk. “Oh, come _on,_ Lily. I just meant you won’t try to battle me for Sirius. But there are plenty of other guys here for you to choose from.”

“No, I’m not feeling quite like a minx yet, thanks.”

“That’s because you aren’t trying that amazing punch, you silly girl!”

I’m sorely tempted to tell Mary exactly _who_ is being silly, but soon realize that it’d be a waste of breath. Besides, I feel too exhausted to play nanny tonight. “No, I think I’ll pass on the punch, thanks. When can we go home?”

“Aw, you’re no fun sober. Always so strict and uptight.” Mary pouts.

I gasp in indignation. “I’m _not._ ”

Mary downs the rest of her drink in one go in lieu of a reply. “Well, we can go after the birthday boy cuts his cake. Until then, I’m dancing with the cute guy.”

“Birthday boy— _what_?!” I shake my head, “And I thought you were here for Sirius?!”

“Yeah, well, he seems otherwise preoccupied, doesn’t he?” Mary rolls her eyes, turning around and sauntering out of the kitchen. “Do let me know when he’s back, will you? Thanks, Lil, you’re such a darling.”

I stare after her with my mouth agape. The _nerve_ of her! And after _she_ had been the one to drag me to this weird party in the first place!

I sigh, inwardly accepting that I had known this would happen anyway. In all likelihood, on a good day, I’d be right there with Mary, jimmying to some trashy song as I emptied my glass of drink.

But today was not one of the good days. Things at work had been extra hard the past few weeks because of our new change in leadership. And while I highly respected and admired Minerva McGonagall, she definitely kept me on my toes. I had just finished my final day of overtime and was really looking forward to getting some cheap Chinese takeaway and curling up on my bed.

The thought of food suddenly makes my stomach grumble.

“Ugh,” I moan, looking around the kitchen for something to eat. I spot punch, punch, vodka, a half-open jar of jam—not touching _that_ —some soft drinks, some _more_ punch, and a half-eaten bowl of crisps. “You’ve _got_ to be kidding me.”

For someone who owns such a massive mansion, you’d _really_ expect them to be better stocked with food.

Quite suddenly, I feel like crying. I’m hungry and frustrated and for some reason, witnessing a man pass-out on the kitchen floor mid-hiccup, and _God,_ I want to go home!

In a final attempt at regaining sanity, I walk across the unconscious man—who, somehow, everyone has accepted to have become a permanent fixture on the floor—and reach the refrigerator. A quick scan inside reveals some half-filled water bottles and a couple of frozen yogurt cups.

_Sweet victory!_

I hungrily retrieve both the cups, a clean spoon, and some tissues before hightailing it out of the kitchen when the girl standing next to me starts looking suspiciously green.

Just as I’m about to go find Mary and make sure she hasn’t died, Sirius Black turns the corner, almost running into me. I quickly hide the yogurt cups behind my back lest I look like a lunatic.

“Hey! Lily!” He looks mildly annoyed, but again, I can’t be sure. “Have you seen James?”

“James Potter? The birthday boy?”

“Well, of course, who _else_?” Sirius sighs impatiently.

I raise an eyebrow at him.

“What?”

“I wouldn’t _know_ , Sirius. On account of me never having met him.” I say, baffled. This bloke really needs help. “I don’t even know what he looks like.”

“Fuck, where is he?!” Sirius swears, and I almost feel bad for the poor guy. “This was supposed to be his day!”

“Well, don’t worry, I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. It’s a pretty big place, but someone’s bound to have seen him.”

“Everyone I’ve asked is just as blank as you,” Sirius accepts sheepishly. “They’re either too drunk to remember or they’ve never met him.”

“What kind of weird party _is_ this?” I can’t help but snort. “Why did you invite these people, then?”

Sirius tilts his head at me like I’ve suddenly started speaking gibberish. “You sound just like Moony. And Prongs when he’s being boring.”

“Moony?”

“Yes. Like the astronomical body orbiting Earth, but with a ‘y’ at the end.”

“I—uh…”

Thankfully, I’m spared from having to reply to that highly strange comment because Mary barrels into the corridor to join us.

“Lily!” She cries in glee before her eyes narrow down to my arms. “What are you hiding? Is that…yogurt?”

“Uh…”

“You’re one strange bird,” says Sirius.

“Oh, you’re back!” Mary’s eyes widen as if just now realizing that an entire human being is standing next to her. Just as suddenly, her demeanor comically shifts to false suaveness. “I don’t know why you invited me here if you were intending on ignoring me the whole night, Sirius.”

I roll my eyes.

“Well, I guess Moony and Wormtail are both looking for Prongs, too,” Sirius concedes, sighing in a manner that makes me feel bad for him yet again. It seems that in his own weird way, Sirius really did try to make this a good party. He finally smirks at Mary, “A few minutes of dancing won’t hurt.”

“That’s the spirit!” She grins one of her drunk-grins and I can’t help but chuckle at her antics. “Come on, Lil, join us!”

I sigh as my stomach grumbles loudly again. “No, I think I’ll go enjoy my yogurt in peace.”

Mary bites her lower lip, and I can see the contrition pool into her dark eyes even before she says anything. “I’m sorry for dragging you here, hun. You must be really tired. We could leave right now if you want!”

And although that offer sounds more tempting than any offer really ought to sound, I also know my best friend well enough to know that she doesn’t want to leave just yet.

“I mean, we _have_ to wait for the birthday boy to cut his cake, right?”

Sirius barks out a laugh and sounds ridiculously like a dog while doing so. “Damn, right. We’ll find Prongs if it’s the last thing we do.”

“You know you’re the best, right?” Mary says, stepping forward and hugging me. Drunk Mary is always twice as emotional and cheesy as sober Mary, and I can’t say that I don’t adore it. “Now go on and enjoy your stupid yogurt,” she waves me off.

I stick out my tongue at her childishly before turning around and venturing my way deeper into the house. I spot a staircase leading to the second floor and decide to settle down on one of the lower steps in order to avoid getting lost in this giant fucking castle.

From this area, the music blaring from the living room sounds more like music and less like it's going to bleed out my ears.

I proceed to neatly lay down my tissues and the extra cup of yogurt next to me on the stair while happily noting that there are fewer people around here who could be falling on the floor or puking in my near vicinity.

Ah, small joys.

And that’s when I face my biggest nemesis for the evening. The bloody aluminum foil lid.

I pull and pull and _pull_ until my forefinger turns red and raw, but the evil little bugger refuses to budge. At one point, I’m even certain that my finger will fall off, and I’m all but prepared to stab through the lid to get to my yogurt. But out of pure stubbornness, I decide to give it one last try. I twist the cup around and try pulling the lid from the other side.

And with an almost unexpected strength, I manage to tear the lid off completely. It goes flying through the air, accompanied by a considerable amount of yogurt…

…and lands with a _splat_ on some bloke who seems to have materialized out of nowhere in front of me.

“Oh my God!” I feel all the blood rush to my face out of embarrassment and look up to apologize to the man. And that’s when the wind is swiftly knocked out of my chest. _“Oh my God!”_

Typically speaking, I’m a person who tends to have quite a good amount of control over my hormones. That’s to say, you’ll never find me openly ogling men or feeling dumbfounded or even feeling the need to go out of my way to know someone.

Until now that is.

 _This_ person. _This_ man, with his lean frame that has to be at least 6 feet tall, a head of the most deliciously messy locks, bright hazel eyes resting behind wire-rimmed glasses, a long, defined nose and a stupid smile that fights between amusement and shock.

 _Him_ I want to know.

“I—” My tongue seems tied-up all of a sudden and I want to slap myself because _this does not happen to me!_ Clearly, the lack of sleep is finally getting to my head. I clear my throat and try again. “I’m so _so_ sorry about this.”

“I was just coming over to offer my help. You looked like you were having some trouble with the yogurt,” he chuckles deeply, and I can _drown_ in his voice, _Jesus_. “That’s definitely some way to teach a bloke a lesson about not to be presumptuous.”

“I didn’t—it was an accident!” I finally manage to say, feeling my face getting warmer by the second.

A quick scan—or perhaps a not-so-quick scan—lets me know that the yogurt has made its acquaintance with his dark jeans and the lid now lies innocently on his left shoe. Luckily, his adorable white t-shirt with an out-of-context reindeer printed on it remains untainted.

Following my line of sight, the man looks down at his t-shirt and smirks. “I really like stags.”

“That’s a reindeer,” I inform him, my voice sounding a bit choked even to my own ears. The way the smirk fits on his face and turns my bones into jelly should really be illegal.

“Well, this is the closest thing the store had to a stag,” He shrugs, sounding very forgiving, “I’m glad your yogurt projectile missed it.”

“Again, I’m _really_ sorry,” I implore, “You should clean that up fast before it stains.”

He quirks an amused eyebrow at me, mirth dancing in his eyes. “So should you.”

“What—?” I frown, confused, before looking down at my dress to see a rather large-sized glob of yogurt resting on my lap. _Oh, fuck no!_ “Mary is going to _kill_ me!” I moan.

“Who’s Mary?” The man asks as I scoop up the yogurt back into the cup using the spoon to the best of my ability. My poor dinner. My poor dress. Poor me.

“She’s my best friend. Also, my flatmate. And the reason I’m at this ridiculous party and this ridiculous mansion in the first place.”

He sighs dramatically, picking up the lid from his shoe, scrunching it up and tossing it at a bin nearby. “It _is_ a rather ridiculous party, isn’t it?”

“Tell me about it,” I groan, getting up and looking around for a washroom.

“Do you need some help?”

“I was just—you wouldn’t happen to know where the washroom is, would you?”

He looks at me contemplatively for a second. “There is one back near the living room, but it’s probably in no shape for you to use right now.”

I recall the green-faced girl in the kitchen and shudder. “You’re right.”

“But there’s also one upstairs. I could take you if you want, because you’re bound to get lost.”

“Sure,” I laugh, heart hammering, “Just as long as you promise that you aren’t a serial killer.”

“You got me,” he nods as we climb the stairs, “I’m actually about to hold you for ransom on the pretense of helping you find a washroom to clean up the yogurt stain. It was a very elaborate plan, and you’ve fallen right into my trap. I’ve had my eyes on you since the second you stepped in through the doors.”

And even though he’s clearly jesting, his last statement still makes my heart soar in delight, and I feel warmth blooming on my cheeks again. I get a faint whiff of mint, chocolate, and cologne as I walk next to him, and that only serves to get my heart pounding faster.

This man seems to be releasing pheromones tailor-made for me left, right and center.

“Um, you _know_ I was just kidding, right?” He speaks up, and I mortifyingly realize that I’ve been ogling him again. He runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up even more, and lets out a chuckle. “Sorry, I can get a little obnoxious when I’m nervous.”

My eyebrows fly up to my hairline in surprise. “ _You’re_ nervous? I can hardly believe that.”

“Truly, I am. It’s not every day that I find myself as the target of flying food launched by a beautiful woman,” He says, leaving me effectively gobsmacked.

“Are you flirting with me?”

He grins at me sheepishly, “Sorry, was it that bad?”

We reach the second floor when I chuckle and shake my head. “I’d rather not say.”

“I insist that you do,” He stops and nods at me seriously, “It’s been quite a while since I’ve flirted with anyone, so a review is quite necessary. Critical, even.”

“Are you always this ridiculous or are you just traumatized from the yogurt assault?”

“Depends on whom you’re asking. Sirius would say I’m always ridiculous, but he’s not one to talk.”

“No arguments there. But, no, I’m asking _you_ —” I stop short, “Uh, what’s your name?”

“Ja—Jake.”

“Jay Jake?” I bite the inside of my cheek, “That’s a little strange.”

Jay Jake laughs nervously. “No, just Jake. And you are?”

“Lily. Lily Evans. And being the perpetrator who ruined your decidedly good jeans with fermented milk, Jake, I feel compelled to inform you that your flirting skills are above-averagely charming.”

“You could say yogurt like a normal person, you know.” He laughs as we start walking down the corridor. “And thank you for the compliment.”

“The one for your jeans or for your flirtation skills?”

“Why not both?” He winks, opening the door to a room.

I quickly walk inside before he notices the flush that sets onto my face from his wink, and my jaw promptly unhinges. “What is _this_?” I squeak.

“It’s a room? There’s a washroom attached,” Jake points, utterly clueless.

I round on him, my hands widely splayed. “ _This_ is not a room! _I_ have a room. I know what those look like. This is at _least_ three times the size of a normal room. I could fit my entire apartment in here.”

He laughs. Poor guy thinks I’m joking.

“Whose is it?”

“I—uh, a friend’s.”

“Sirius’s?”

He snorts and rolls those beautiful eyes of his. “Sirius’s décor choices aren’t _nearly_ as nice, Lily. He is decidedly broody and dark themed.”

Yeah, that pretty much fits the image of him in my mind.

“Then James’s?” I ask, absently walking around the room and trailing my fingers over the sinfully soft-looking duvet. Even I can admit that the light soothing colors and neatly organized bookshelf impress me.

A weird noise from behind me makes me turn around. Jake seems to have a strange, excited gleam in his eyes that does weird things to my stomach.

“Well, yes. You—you know James Potter?”

I love how he correctly questions that I would be at a birthday party without knowing the person whose birthday it was.

Or maybe he’s just familiar with Sirius.

“I know _of_ him,” I answer, innocently walking towards the washroom when I realize exactly how intrusive it looks to a third-party when I randomly touch belongings in a stranger’s room in his absence. _Especially_ when I do not want this particular third-party to think of me as a creep. No sir, thank you. “In the same way that one might know of the Pope. Or the Loch Ness monster. Heard of, but never seen.”

“That’s…quite a varied range of examples. Besides, I’m pretty sure people have seen the Pope.”

“I’m sure people have seen James Potter, too. Your point is?” I speak a little louder so that he can hear me over the sound of running water. I quickly dab a wet tissue over the dress and it luckily looks like it won’t stain.

“You know, I’m not really sure,” I can practically _hear_ the amusement in his voice. And if that brings a smile to my face, too…well, that’s neither here nor there. “So, how do you know Sirius?”

“I don’t, Mary does,” I reply, walking back to the room and giving a comical twirl. “So apart from it looking like I peed my pants, how bad is it?”

“Not bad at all,” Jake hums, giving me a once-over from where he’s sitting on the bed before nodding appreciatively, “Except for the…yeah, peeing.”

“Stop staring at it!” My fact heats.

“Sorry, it’s like right there,” he laughs, looking anything but apologetic. I stubbornly refuse to let my lips quirk up. “May I use the washroom now?”

“Yes, of course,” I step aside, and shamelessly hope to catch a whiff of his scent again as he passes by. I do.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Wow, this is _one_ soft bed,” I sigh, my body groaning in pleasure at the comfort once I sit down. If I’m not careful, I could easily fall asleep on it any second.

“Yeah, it is,” Jake replies, his voice carrying to me from the washroom. And for some reason, my traitorous mind decides to conjure up images of him _considerably_ less clothed and engaging in activities inside the bathroom that my mind _definitely_ has no right imagining. “And no offense, but you look really tired.”

I sigh, running my fingers over the duvet once again. “None taken. I _am_ tired. I was brought here against my will, after all.” I slap my hands against my cheeks to keep myself awake. Can’t have James Potter return to his room to find a crazy redhead asleep on his bed.

“Now that’s quite a sight,” Jake laughs, re-entering the room. God, I wish he were at a museum so that I didn’t feel nearly as lecherous as I stared at him. “Do you think I got all of it?” He asks, unaware of the impure thoughts running through my mind.

“Well go on, do the twirl.”

He does, much to my amusement.

I can’t seem to really spot anything, but I say, “Come closer.”

I blink as he walks up and stands right in front of me. Almost immediately, I realize that this is a bad idea. The shift in the atmosphere is glaringly obvious and I suddenly cannot focus on anything else. From this close, my eyes are at the perfect level to be able to truly appreciate how very lovely his forearms are. All shapely and strong-looking and just so…male.

I gulp.

“Well? Do you see anything?” He asks, and my insides clench at the change in his tone—the deep timbre suddenly making it difficult for me to breathe. He clears his throat but the heat in his eyes remains. “Or do you need me to come closer?”

“Well, the lighting isn’t quite right.”

When the hell did my voice become so raspy?

“Perhaps if you stood…”

Neither of us is making sense any longer. But neither of us seems to care, either.

It feels almost natural when he wraps a hand around my forearm and my willing body easily follows at the slightest tug from him. I press my other hand against his chest to steady myself and can’t help the quiet gasp when I feel smooth rock underneath my palm.

Boy, he is _fit_ fit.

“Lily.”

“Yes?”

“If you have a boyfriend, now would be a good time to tell me so.”

“Why’s that?” I ask, my heart hammering as I look up into his eyes. I could get lost in them, is the only thought that flies through my mind despite its cheesy nature. They seem darker than before, an intensity in them that seems to have turned the warm golden hues into a burning fire. I can’t think of any other word for them except _smoldering._

“Because I’d quite like to ask you out on a date sometime,” He answers, the fragrance of mint on his breath rendering my thoughts incoherent. “And maybe for your number.”

“I think you’ve got the order mixed up.”

“Hmm, you’re right,” He says, his lips close to my own. _So close._ “Then I’d like to ask for your number first.”

“Is that all you want?” I breathe, my eyes fluttering shut when the sensation of him becomes _too_ much.

I feel his lips lightly brush over mine…

“Prongs, I can’t do it anymore! It’s almost twelve and—OH SHIT! I’M SO SORRY!”

“AAH!”

“What the FUCK—OW!”

“SORRY, JAKE!” I yell, my face on fire as I rush over to help him up from where I’d throw him on the floor in panic. I can’t imagine what it must have looked like—two people on the verge of making out in some stranger’s bedroom! How _mortifying!_ How _unlike_ me, how—

“Wait a second. _Prongs?!_ ” I bark, the wheels in my head churning again.

“ _Jake_?!” The man who had unceremoniously walked in on us finally removes his hands from his eyes to stare at me in confusion. “Who the hell’s Jake? Who are _you_? And… _why_ are both of your clothes wet?!”

“ _This_ is Prongs?” I ask him instead, pointing to the alarmed man on the floor. “Prongs with the antlers?”

“Antlers—?”

“That sounds uncannily like something Sirius would say.”

“Wait so that means…” I round on the lying piece of gorgeous human specimen now wincing on the floor. “ _You_ are James Potter? The birthday boy who won’t cut his cake?”

The man near the door chuckles lightly and my eyes flash to him. “Sorry,” he says immediately, “That was just quite an amusing description.”

“Remus, mate, you have the absolute worst timing,” James groans, finally lifting himself off the ground.

“ _No_ , that was the best timing.” I narrow my eyes at him and jab a finger at the chest I was feeling up just a minute ago. “I can’t believe I was—with _you_ —when you didn’t even tell me your real _name_. God, how stupid—”

“No, Lily, wait. Let me explain—”

“Oh, so _you’re_ Lily Evans,” the bloke named Remus nods, his blue eyes wide with understanding. “I generally don’t say this, but Padfoot wasn’t lying when he said he’d found someone your type, James.”

“What the HELL are these nicknames?!” I screech, seemingly at the end of my wits.

“Padfoot is Sirius,” James is quick to explain, “And this is Moony, also known as Remus Lupin—”

“Well technically, I’m Remus Lupin, also known as Moony—”

“ _Not_ the time, mate,” James cuts him off and Remus nods agreeably. James turns to me then, catching hold of the hand still pointed at him and giving it a comforting squeeze. “This is not what it looks like, Lily, I _swear_. I wasn’t trying to make a fool out of you or anything like that.”

“Uh, I’ll just, wait outside,” Remus says considerately before stepping out to give us some space.

“Why did you lie to me?” I ask James, my voice softer now, feeling hurt despite myself. “I don’t even _know_ you! And I actually thought—thought that you might possibly like me.”

“I _do_!” He implores immediately, thankfully not pointing out the blush that refuses to recede from my face. And God help me, I _still_ find my stomach somersaulting at his confession. “It’s just—ugh! It just seems so silly now!”

My pointed look lets him know that he’s not getting out of it so easily.

“I just never wanted such a raucous party,” he begins, “But Sirius thought I was joking and went ahead and invited half the city here. I know he means well; he’s basically my brother so I should know, but well…my parents passed away last year, and I just wasn’t in the mood. Sirius thought bringing in so many people would actually make me happier, but it didn’t feel right. So anyway, once I came to know what he’d done, I asked Moony to help me stay hidden until the party was over.”

“And you knew everyone was looking for you, so you lied about your name,” I finish for him.

“Yeah,” James nods, looking entirely too regretful for me to be able to hold onto my anger. I understand his emotions only too well, and I feel silly now in light of the revelation.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, “About your parents. And for the outburst.”

“Thank you,” he says, looking genuinely grateful. “And I promise, none of what happened—between us—was in any way staged or meant to make you feel stupid.”

“James, I—I know. It’s okay.”

He bites his lip then, hazel eyes hopeful as he takes a step forward. “So, does that mean—”

“ _Ahem_ ,” someone clears their throat loudly, and I turn to find Remus staring at his feet sheepishly. “I’m sorry about this, _again_ —you honestly don’t know just _how_ sorry I am—but, James, it’s time, mate. Please don’t make Padfoot wait any longer.”

“Of course!” I suddenly yelp, pulling away my hand from James and putting some much-needed distance between our bodies. “It’s your birthday! And _Mary_! Oh my God, she must think I’ve _died_.”

“Alright, alright,” James sighs, running his hand through his hair, “I guess it’s time to face the music. Literally.”

“Oh, thank God!” Remus exhales in relief, “If I’d had to endure Sirius’s questions any longer, I would have positively thrown him off the balcony.”

“It’s not too late, you know.”

“Nah, this is a happy day! I’m sure abundant opportunities will present themselves in the near future.”

James laughs good-naturedly and looks at me. “Come on, Lily.”

I nod, a soft smile on my face as I follow them.

“So, why were your clothes wet?” I hear Remus whisper to James as we walk out of the room.

* * *

“I guess this is where we part ways then,” James says, turning off the car ignition as he turns to look at me properly.

Once we’d gone downstairs, it was only to discover that in a bout of uncharacteristic tactfulness, Sirius had removed all the inebriated, unconscious and unknown guests from the party. Which basically left only six of us in the house—the four boys who had adorably weird nicknames for each other, me, and a drunk Mary who had threatened to burn down the house if Sirius tried to make her leave without me.

Though guessing from her tangled hair and swollen lips which matched Sirius’s, I highly doubted she would’ve been thrown out. 

“Prongs!” Sirius had cried out in glee, “Where have you _been,_ mate?”

“I’m sorry,” James had apologized, “thank you for putting in so much effort for me, Padfoot. I’ve decided you’re not the worst.”

And though they had then proceeded to rib and make fun of each other after that, I think everyone else in the room had heard their unspoken emotions loud and clear.

James had finally cut the cake and then his face was unceremoniously smashed into it.

A little while later, Sirius had pulled me aside to abruptly inform me of James’s relationship status (single), his age (twenty-three), and his preference of women (redheads with green eyes). Incidentally, I’d developed a coughing fit at that very moment, bringing an end to the conversation.

All good fun.

Predictably, the boys had insisted that they drop us off given the late hour once James had cleaned up, and there was really no arguing about it.

As for me, I was able to play my part as the designated responsible friend when Mary finally passed out in drunken bliss. The heathen in question now snores loudly in the backseat of James’s car.

“Mary!” I prod her none-too-gently on the shoulder, reaching over the console.

“Mmgrf,” she replies eloquently. “We home?”

“That’s right, love. Let’s go. Think you can walk?”

“Of course! M’fine,” She says, her bleary eyes staring at me in affront before she throws open the car door and walks out as if to prove her point. “See? All good. Now I’m gonna go upstairs while you kiss that boy and allow him to ask you out. Ta, love!” She closes the door.

While I—

“How do you even _say_ these things while you’re drunk six ways to Sunday?!” I ask in alarm, my face warming immediately. The effect is quite ruined, however, since Mary has already swaggered off in her high heels.

I hear James chuckling beside me and turn to look at him with a cringe.

“I’m sorry about that. She’s—”

“One of a kind?” James finishes helpfully.

“Yeah. Guess I’ll just have to slip some poison into her coffee tomorrow morning.”

He laughs again, and the warm, bubbling sound fills the air around us. “Well, she’s not wrong, you know.”

I can barely make out the brown of his eyes in the dark. “About which part?”

“Everything,” he answers, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His knuckles gently brush over my cheek with the movement, and there’s no doubt he feels the warmth on his skin. I hold still, my breath sounding too loud to my own ears.

“I—”

“Don’t worry,” he sighs, a rueful smile on his face as he pulls his hand away, entirely misreading my stiff posture. “I won’t try to kiss you again before—”

But he never gets to finish his sentence because I find myself suddenly unlatching my seatbelt, grabbing a hold of his t-shirt, and using it as leverage to pull myself across the console to land the world’s quickest kiss on his lips.

In a flash, I’ve returned to my side of the car, my back against the door.

James is understandably lost for words.

“I’m sorry!” I gasp, a hand covering my mouth, “I don’t know why I did that! That was rude. You were talking.”

James blinks, almost as if shaking himself out of a daze. Slowly, the dumbstruck expression on his face morphs into a dazzling smile that I quickly consider capturing, framing, and hanging on my bedroom wall. “Lily,” he says, stretching out the two syllables of my name as he unbuckles his own seat belt, “whatever you do, do _not_ be sorry for doing that.”

And then he pulls me towards him, one of his hands burying into my hair and the other gently cradling my face and as gives me a slow, sweet kiss, whose warmth travels all the way down to my toes and sends my lower belly into a tumble. My fingers curl over his shoulders as I try to find purchase and not lose my mind. His lips glide over mine in unhurried strokes, and he tastes like chocolate and mint and something that feels entirely _James_ , and I think—I think I may be losing my mind anyway.

When we finally pull away—my cheeks red and eyes wide, and James’s hair _decidedly_ messier than before—he throws a disarmingly goofy smile my way.

“Wow, we’re good at that.”

And that does the trick. I laugh, throwing my head back against the window. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Go out with me, Evans?”

“You’re mixing up the order again, Potter.”

“Quite certain I’m not,” James reaches out to gently flick my nose. “Mary already gave me your number.”

I open and close my mouth for a few seconds like a fish out of the water. “ _When_?!”

“Don’t bother yourself with the nuances.”

I shake my head, realizing he’s right and that some things are just better left unknown. Most of the time, ignorance is bliss when it comes to Mary Macdonald and her escapades.

“Well, alright, I better go make sure Mary hasn’t fallen asleep in the elevator,” I say. _If she even made it that far_ , I add in my head.

“Wait!” James says, grabbing my forearm when I open the passenger side door. He runs a hand through his hair and looks at me with unsure eyes. “You—you didn’t answer me.”

I smirk, slowly unwrapping his hand from around my arm as I lean across to leave a small peck on his cheek. “Happy belated Birthday, James. Have a good night.”

“ _Lily!_ ” He whines, rolling down the window and pouting once I’ve stepped outside.

I turn around, laughing aloud at his expression. “Well, you’ll just have to text me and find out, won’t you?”

“If you’re hoping to get rid of me that way, it’s not going to work!” He yells, trying and failing to control his grin.

“I’m counting on that!” I yell back, throwing a wink over my shoulder as I walk inside my building.

“Oh, your phone is going to be _spammed_ , Evans!” He yells one last time.

And even after I hear his car drive away, even after I’ve made sure Mary has safely reached the confines of our apartment, and even after I’ve changed into my pajamas and climbed into bed, the ridiculous smile refuses to leave my face.

Boy, am I screwed!

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave some comments, you lovely people! Thanks for reading xx


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